Undefeated
by MountainAir
Summary: A re-write of the feast from the Hunger Games. What would have happened if Thresh had never come to save the day? Read to find out. One-shot.


**To make this one-shot a little easier to understand, Peeta died in the bloodbath, so Katniss never developped any sort of feelings for him. Enjoy!**

The second knife soars through the air, until it catches me right in the face. My forehead erupts into pain, and for a second, I'm grateful that it was there that I was hit, instead of my eyes, or mouth. That moment of gratitude is gone in a second, though, as blood floods down my face and blocks my vision.

Red is all I can see, and the sharp, metalic taste of my own blood fills my mouth. I swing my arm up to wipe it away -to try to be able to see enough to keep running- when another body slams into my own. I'm thrown backwards, and I hit the ground with a force strong enough to knock all of the air out of my lungs.

I lay gasping, trying my hardest to keep breathing. But the impact was too strong, and it takes me too long to regain my strength.

Clove -the girl from District 2- aggressively swipes some of the blood off of my face. The zipper on her sleeve catches the cut, and I get another slice across my face as she detaches it. The pain gets worse, but I don't flinch.

It's still difficult for me to see, but I am able to take in the situation at hand. I'm lying with my back to the ground of the clearing, with a hundred and fifty pound girl holding me down. Being small for my age, it's going to be practically impossible to fight this girl off of me; especially since my best weapon, my bow and arrows, is lying three meters away. There's no way I'll be able to reach for them in a moment of bravery.

But I promised Prim I would try my best, and not go down without a fight. So instead of accepting my fate, and waiting for Clove to give me the death blow, I try to push her off with all of my strength. It's no use, but I keep going, shoving and twisting.

"Give it up, District Twelve. I'm going to kill you now," she says, an evil glint in her eye. I shove her again, but she just laughs and locks her knees on my shoulders, making it even more impossible to escape.

I stop moving at this point, because there is really nothing I can do. I am going to die, and no one can save me. I hope for Prim's sake that Clove does this fast, and doesn't drag it out. But she's from District 2, and so the chances of me dying quickly are very slim. They're known for being ruthless killers.

But still, as I lay here, awaiting a slow and painful death, the only people I can blame are the Capitol. They are the ones who have made us this; turned us into cruel monsters who murder innocent children. We weren't even the ones who were alive during the Dark Days, and still, we are the ones who are punished the most.

Maybe it's the injury to my head, or maybe it's just my fear for the Games catching up to me, but as I watch Clove chosing out a knife to kill me with, all I feel is numbness. I know that I don't have enough strength to fight her off, and I know that these will be the last breaths I ever breathe. But I don't find myself trembling from fear or fighting off tears. I can just lie here, and wait for it to be over, for me to leave this world too cruel for any person to live in.

I don't know who will miss me when I'm gone, or if anyone will even take an extra second to think about it. They've all seen it too many times to care anymore. All I know is that I will not die without showing the Capitol of their cruelty. I want their citizens to really _see_ what we need to go through, and that it could have just as easily been one of their children lying here today.

So instead of crying, and begging for mercy, I will not show anyone my agony. I will stare Clove down until the very last second. I want them to see the coldness and hatred in my eyes as I'm cut to pieces because of this horrible Game we're forced into.

I won't let the Capitol control me, and I sure as hell won't give them the satisfaction of hearing my cries.

"Hmm... what do you think of this one?" Clove asks, holding up a cruel looking knife. It curves downwards, and it reminds me of a fruit my dad let my try once when I was little, called a banana. He'd saved up money to buy me one for my birthday, because he'd tried to explain its taste, but hadn't been able to.

I gather up a nice mixture of blood and saliva, and spit it straight into her grinning face. Through the redness, I can see her cheeks flush in anger as she tries to control herself.

I brace myself for the pain that is about to follow. I stare up into the blue sky, wanting it to be the last thing I see before I die, instead of my own cut-up body.

Clove leans forward so that she is cutting off my view. She is breathing in my face, and let me tell you, being in an arena for two weeks does some horrible things to your breath. I try not to gag. "Where should I start..." She muses.

I spit some more blood into her face, and she punches me in the throat, immediately cutting off my breath again.

"You know, I never did like you. Neither did Cato. You were a little too... cocky, as if you really thought you could win the Hunger Games." Clove laughs, as if the thought of me winning amuses her. "It's a miracle he let me do the honors of killing you, because he was really looking forward to it. I promised him I'd give the audience a great show, though."

She brings the knife over to my face, and presses it lightly against my cheek, causing a trail of blood to slide down my jaw.

I bring my attention back to the sky, and make sure that when the cameras zoom in on my expression -which they are probably doing right now- they will see the coldnes. She tries to pull my face back down to look at what her, but I bite at her hand.

"Okay, then. Let's get started."

She brings her knife down onto my chest, and starts to curve the blade into designs. Or are they letters? It doesn't matter.

I continue to stare up at the sky as the pain gets worse and worse. Clove brings her knife down towards my stomach now, and I want to close my eyes. I want to escape so that I can pretend that this isn't happening. But I don't, because I need to prove that I will not be taken down.

_I will die, in my own way, undefeated. _That is what I keep repeating to myself so that I don't break down and scream. My eyes stay fixed on the clear blue sky, cold and unwavering.

I wonder what the people back home are thinking as they watch Katniss Everdeen, the girl who gave them hope, the girl who they thought might have a chance of winning, die a horrible death. I'm sure some won't care at all. Some will just continue on living their lives, as if this never happened. But I know that others, like my mother and Prim, are breaking down probably right now, and crying. I wish for their sake that this will end soon, so that they don't need to keep watching.

I also think of Gale, my best friend and my hunting partner. I can imagine him in his home in the Seam, watching with his mother and siblings. Hazelle will surely be crying, but I know that Gale won't. At least not yet. He's too strong for that; too much of a fighter.

I know that he loves me. I'm almost one hundred percent sure that that was what he was trying to tell me in the Justice Building. And I wish that I could tell him that I love him, too, and that I just hadn't realized it until it was too late. But I can't say it out loud now; it would just show the Capitol that, like so many others, I have given up hope. So, I tell him in my head, as if the message could travel hundreds of kilometers to where he is, so that he could hear me say it.

The agony drags on, and I can tell Clove is getting frustrated at me for not reacting. She's probably used to having her victims screaming and begging for mercy. Two things I will never give her the satisfaction of hearing from me.

There are now clouds in the sky, and they start to move into shapes of all sort. I'm pretty sure it's just my mind playing tricks on me, but I can see everyone I love in the clouds. It makes it harder for me to glare at the sky.

I feel wetness all over my body, and I start to see white spots in my vision. The pain gets worse by the second as Clove drags patterns and designs all over me, trying to force some kind of reaction.

Eventually, the agony turns to numbness, and I notice that Clove is no longer holding me down. I force my eyes to stay open for as long as I can, wanting to hold onto my last breaths. But I know they are drooping, and at the last second, I feel sad for leaving.

Why did Prim need to be Reaped? Why did this need to happen to our family, after everything we have been through?

It's unfair, but I suppose it had to happen to someone. I just wish I had died quicker, because the people I love are all suffering back home. The pain I am going through doesn't matter to me much in comparison to the pain that Prim and Gale must be feeling.

But I'm still proud of myself for not backing down. Because even though Clove has just cut me all over, and left me here to die, my eyes are still staring up at the sky. It doesn't matter that they are drooping, all that matters is that they still have a harsh coldness to them that I'm sure the cameras can see.

And so as I am finally drifting off, I know that I've died, in my own way, undefeated.

**Love it? Hate it? I'm not sure I like this one too much... it's not my favorite thing I've written. Nonetheless, I want to know what you guys thought. So REVIEW :) They make us all happy.**


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